Pillow Talk
by erindarroch
Summary: On the way to Bespin, Leia discovers the joy of...chat. One-shot. Han x Leia romance and near-smut, with the tiniest smidgen of angst. Co-written with Justine Graham (justinegraham). Thumbnail art by Kate McCredie (leelastarsky at DeviantArt).


**Pillow Talk**

 **By Erin Darroch and Justine Graham**

As her spangled vision began to clear and the thrumming vibrations in her body gradually faded, Leia released a contented sigh and rolled her head to the side, settling her gaze on the handsome Corellian who lay stretched out on his back alongside her. She loved seeing Han like this: flushed and panting in the first few moments after release, with his tousled head lolling against the rumpled pillow, and his bare body limned in the blue glow from the control panel over their heads. There was a faint smile playing on his parted lips, and as his eyes drifted closed he heaved a gratified sigh of his own. Leia smiled.

It was both a revelation and a pleasure to be so close to him in the aftermath of their shared passion, to witness the state of bliss that settled over him as his breathing slowed, leaving him looking relaxed and serenely happy. It was a moment no less intimate than the act that had preceded it, and Leia found it thrilling in a completely different way.

The bunkroom was quiet now, with only the sound of their laboured breathing discernible over the drone of the _Falcon_ 's engines. A low but constant hum, it tended to fade into the background of their day-to-day activities. In moments of hushed silence like this, however, it surfaced as a reminder of where they were: aboard a tiny freighter in the furthest reaches of the Outer Rim, cruising along at sublight speed on day ten of what promised to be a very long, slow journey to Bespin. Absorbed in each other and immersed in the wonder of mutual discovery, it was a fact that was remarkably easy to forget.

Shifting her weight to her side, Leia reached out a hand and placed it lightly on the damp skin of Han's chest, enjoying the rise and fall of his heavy breathing and the rapid thump of his beating heart under her splayed fingers. Although the experience of sex was still so new, she'd come to crave it already—from the first quickening of her pulse and the delicious liquid pull of desire that rose in her belly, to the weightless abandon of release—and she couldn't seem to get enough. She yearned not only for the exquisite sensations that Han coaxed from her body, but for the intense feeling of connection she felt when she was with him, and the thrum of strong emotion that resonated between them. Although it had been only a handful of days, she had already gained deeply intimate knowledge of what gave Han pleasure; she'd learned how to turn his quiet murmurings into something far more primal and urgent, and how to make him quake against her and gasp her name. It was an intoxicating power to possess, and she was thoroughly enjoying learning how to wield it.

She'd also been surprised to discover that she adored the aftermath, the peaceful lull that descended as their spent bodies were recovering, almost as much as the act itself. A companionable silence enveloped them both in a warm mantle of calm and comfort and, for a little while, wiped Leia's mind clear of everything else. Dark worries, bitter memories and even the constraints of her own identity and position seemed to fade away in the afterglow of the deeply pleasurable connection she'd found with the so-called scoundrel who'd won her heart.

Han's expression in these moments always brought a smile to her face, too; he looked completely sated, utterly content, and—she thought now, as she studied his profile—perhaps just a _little_ triumphant.

He rolled his head to the side, meeting her curious gaze, and gave a breathless laugh. "What?"

"Nothing. You look very pleased with yourself, is all."

Han grinned, a lazy half-smile with a flash of white teeth, and then turned his gaze back toward the curved bulkhead above. As he closed his eyes once more, his slight smile grew gradually wider and more radiant.

"See? That's exactly what I mean," Leia pressed playfully, rising up on one elbow and giving him a little poke in the ribs. "You look as if you just laid down the winning hand in a Sabacc game. I've never seen you look so…so...".

"Satisfied?" he offered, turning to stretch out alongside her with one bare arm tucked under his head. In the dim light, his eyes gleamed with a happy sparkle.

" _Proud."_

Han gave another soft chuff of laughter. "Guess I am, sorta." Reaching out, he smoothed a few tendrils of hair away from Leia's face with slow, careful fingers.

There was a tenderness in his touch that caused Leia's heart to stutter and sent her pulse leaping and fluttering in her veins. Being on the receiving end of such a caress from Han was still so new, it made her catch her breath every time—despite the fact she'd just spent the better part of an hour as the sole focus of his loving and very thorough attention. She bit her lip. Although the faint blue glow from the control panel was the only source of light in the bunkroom, she could clearly make out his features and see the twinkle in his eyes. His lingering grin grew a little wider still.

"I just love to make you…ah..." his voice trailed off and then he quirked one eyebrow up meaningfully, "... _smile_ like that…."

Leia gave a startled laugh, realizing the implications of his suggestive tone. "Oh, is _that_ what they're calling it now?" she teased. "Did you just make me _smile_?"

The euphemism struck her as funny, coming from Han. He was normally so unapologetically blunt, and it amused her to hear him speak in such ambiguous terms, especially given their present—very naked, very intimate—circumstances. His capacity for subtlety was another of the many novel facets to Han, beyond the obvious physical side of him, that Leia had uncovered since the outset of this journey. Now, more than two years after they'd first met, she finally felt like she was really beginning to know every aspect of him, inside and out.

Her gaze drifted down to his sensuous mouth and lingered there. She longed to taste him again, to run her tongue along that luscious bottom lip and to feel him respond with ready passion. The familiar pang of desire was replaced by a happy jolt when she remembered that there was no reason why she couldn't do just that. Over the past few days Han had made it clear that she had his standing permission to touch and kiss him as much as she wanted—a thrilling and delicious sort of freedom that Leia was trying hard not to exploit too much. As difficult as it was under the circumstances, she was striving to maintain at least a modicum of self-restraint.

But he was impossible to resist, lying there on his side, all bare skin and lean muscle, with his hair a riotous mess and a happy smirk on his face. He was watching her with those changeable, attentive eyes, and she decided that there really was no point in denying herself the pleasure.

Leaning in, she captured his mouth with her own, delighting in the way their lips fit together with near perfection, and how they seemed irresistibly drawn together, connecting like the opposite poles of two strong magnets. And _oh_ the way he moved his mouth against hers, softly devouring her lips as his free hand drifted up and came to rest upon the curve of her hip. They immersed themselves for a few moments, nuzzling each other and exchanging sweet kisses as Han's long fingers roamed lazily over Leia's skin. These were gentle, almost reverent touches—no longer the impassioned, hungry caresses of an hour before—but infused nevertheless with the warmth of deep affection. The latent fire that smoldered between them seemed to flare a little, sending a slow and delicious ripple of desire melting through Leia's core once more. She broke their kiss on a sigh and then drew back to meet his gaze.

"I love to make you _smile,_ too," she confided in a whisper.

Han's answering beam was bright enough to outshine the control panel lights over their heads. "Good," he said. "Feel free to make me grin like a Gungan _anytime you want_." He reached up to stroke a knuckle along the angle of her jaw. "I'm just glad you like it so much."

Leia's eyebrows quirked upward. "Like what? _Sex?"_

Han laughed and dropped his hand back down to the mattress between them, seeming amused by her perplexed expression. "Yeah, sex."

Leia paused, choosing to proceed with caution into what was, for her, uncharted conversational territory.

"What's...not to like?" she queried at length, feeling a little twinge of trepidation that she was perhaps revealing some uncomfortable degree of ignorance by posing the question.

She'd been formally educated on the subject of sex, of course, as all Alderaani teenagers were, and she'd had a few painfully awkward conversations with her parents on the topic of sex and relationships when she was in her early teens—before it became clear to everyone that Leia's burning passion was for affairs of state, not affairs of the heart. All of that felt like a lifetime ago, though, and so much had happened since then. Neither what she recalled of that formal education and her parents' advice, nor any of the furtive little bouts of reading and research on the topic she'd managed to squeeze into the last year or two had been of any great assistance, beyond expanding her understanding about the mechanics of it all. When it came to the practical application of that knowledge, however, she found that the reality of intimacy was rather more complex, exciting and overwhelming than she'd expected, and as a result, she was acutely aware of just how much she still didn't know. Looking down now at Han's reclining figure, she braced herself in anticipation of the teasing that would surely come from what she saw as a potentially embarrassing line of inquiry.

Instead of the good-natured ribbing she expected, though, Han only gave another low chuckle, and the kindness in his expression reminded Leia once again of just how much their dynamic had changed in the past ten days. She relaxed, feeling certain now that he wouldn't take advantage of her vulnerability.

"Well," Han drawled, "there _are_ some people who just don't...uhh... _take_ to it…."

"Oh," Leia blinked. "Yes," she nodded her understanding. "I've read about that."

Han turned his face for a moment into the crook of his bent arm, muffling another soft laugh. "Ah, Sweetheart," he sighed as he lifted his head, his expression a mixture of mirth and tender affection. "Of course you have."

Leia bit her lip and averted her gaze, feeling her cheeks grow warm. He wasn't mocking her or trying to provoke her; she knew that now. The strain and contention that had characterized their every interaction since Ord Mantell had finally dissipated, seeming to evaporate in the heated culmination of their long courtship. Her discomfiture stemmed instead from the fact that she felt out of her depth. She was rarely faced with a situation wherein she didn't have a sense of mastery, or at least in which her knowledge and skills didn't give her a slight advantage. In this arena, she was suddenly self-consciously aware of just how much Han's experience outstripped her own. That was no surprise, of course; he was, after all, several years her senior and had endured, from what she could glean from his sparse references to his childhood, a far less sheltered upbringing. Their differences in that regard didn't bother her in the slightest, but she was nevertheless conscious of having a relatively limited perspective.

Han seemed to sense her uncertainty. Shifting up onto one elbow, he dipped his head down to catch her eye. "Hey," he said, "I don't care how you picked that up. I'm just happy you're not one of those people who can take it or leave it. You seem to…uh," The corner of his mobile mouth twitched, and he gave a little shrug. "Enjoy it. _Really_ enjoy it."

Leia made a tiny, choked sound and turned her head, then dropped down and buried her face in the pillow to hide the new surge of heat that rushed to her cheeks. Uncertain thoughts flickered through her mind: what did he mean by that, exactly? Was she _too_ enthusiastic? The events of the last few days seemed to have erased the last shred of self-control she'd possessed where Han was concerned. Maybe she was coming across as too eager now? She had no basis for comparison, no gauge for how she was supposed to conduct herself in this new sexual dimension, and there was no one she could talk to about it. Then another thought struck her:

Oh gods—was she _too loud?_

"Sweetheart," Han interjected and then paused, resting his free hand on her bare shoulder.

He seemed to be waiting for her to look up, but she wasn't yet ready to lift her face from the pillow. She sensed him leaning in towards her and felt his warm breath stirring her hair.

"Leia," he murmured, fingers trailing up the curve of her shoulder, "that's a _good_ thing."

She felt his touch at the nape of her neck then, sliding under her hair and lightly stroking the skin there for a moment before he turned his hand and began slowly combing his fingertips through the long locks that spilled down her bare back. "It's a _very_ good thing," he repeated. "And I guess that's why I'm smiling so big and can't stop."

Leia finally tilted her face up from the pillow to peek at him with one eye.

One half of his face crinkled up. "If I _do_ look a little pleased with myself," he said, "it's 'cause _you_ look pleased. And I like knowing I had somethin' to do with that."

Leia's cheeks felt as hot as Tatooine's twin suns, but she lifted her head then and met his gaze fully once more, amazed and delighted by his confession. It made sense that he should feel gratified at having satisfied her, and she could certainly relate to that sentiment. She felt a genuine thrill every time his body responded to her touch, and she'd already discovered what a delight it was to put that look of euphoria on his face when her heated caresses took him over the edge. She'd never known such joy and closeness with another human being, such unadulterated pleasure and _fun_ , and she was beginning to wonder if it was possible to become addicted to it. She gave him a slow, warm smile.

"I _am_ pleased," she admitted quietly, repaying his confession with one of her own. "And I'd say you have _everything_ to do with that."

As the words left her lips, she saw Han's face transform. It was difficult to tell in the dim blue light, but it looked to Leia as though the skin of his chest and throat grew a shade darker. His lips parted, his eyebrows climbed and a half-strangled sound of surprise escaped his throat.

"Well," he said when he found his voice again. He cleared his throat. "Well, _good_ ," he finally managed, and then he laughed, low and soft. "That's good," he repeated, and then dropped his head back onto the pillow.

Leia watched in fascination as an odd flicker crossed over his features, and then he angled his gaze away and raked his fingers through his rumpled hair, seeming lost in thought. With a flash of insight, she realized that he'd been taken aback by her unabashed praise, rendered almost speechless by her direct acknowledgement of the effect he had on her. That understanding brought with it a pang of remorse for the bitter energy that had flowed between them since Ord Mantell.

She'd been so confused, hurt, and angry over his sudden reversal in the wake of that fraught mission. His abrupt rescindment of his decision to stay—with the Alliance; with _her_ —had stung Leia deeply, and left her feeling bewildered and betrayed. She'd resorted to harsh words, heated denials, and outright avoidance to shut down communication between them, unconsciously striving to protect herself from the inevitable pain of his loss. Han's reaction to her behaviour only served to intensify the unpleasant atmosphere, responding with a vexing combination of outrage—as if he thought _she_ was the one being unreasonable—and a sort of grim detachment, broken only by an occasional scathing retort in response to one of her own verbal barbs. Those few weeks had been painful and ugly; a brutal revocation of the warmth and easy camaraderie that had developed between them over the course of their long acquaintance, and a sharp contrast to the new intimacy they'd begun to explore in those first few days together on Ord Mantell. But even before their encounter with the bounty hunters there had abruptly curtailed their growing attachment, Leia reflected, they'd never made full, honest confessions to each other.

It all seemed so ridiculous now. They'd wasted precious time skirting around their feelings; each trying to provoke the other to some form of commitment, each stubbornly refusing to be the first to crack and reveal the vulnerable truths buried in their hearts. She'd gone to great lengths for so long to disguise her strong attraction to Han—to deny it outright, in fact—that it felt strange and a little daunting to be so transparent with him now. But she'd made her decision about that several days ago, and she intended to stand by it.

Stranded in the vast emptiness of wild space, still reeling from their frantic escape from Hoth and facing the uncertainty of what would happen after Bespin, there'd been nowhere left for Leia to run or hide. She had no more excuses, no distractions or interruptions to save her from the confrontation—with herself and with Han—that had been building up for so long. She'd finally been forced to look deep within herself and acknowledge the stark truth: _it was going to hurt_ , no matter what. Whether she confessed her feelings or continued to deny them, the end result would be the same: she was in love with Han, and he was leaving, perhaps never to return. The only choice Leia had to make was whether to let him go without telling him the truth, or to lay her heart bare and take what solace and pleasure she could find with him in the time they had remaining. She'd chosen the latter.

Watching him now as he lay beside her, apparently adrift in his own private thoughts, she couldn't summon even the slightest regret over that decision. She was aware of a swarm of emotions flowing through her all at once, though: hope and fear and love and longing and, through it all, a surging joy—that they'd reached this point together at long last; that she'd gathered courage enough to let him know what he meant to her before it was too late; and that he'd reciprocated those feelings, vehemently, and with a fierce passion that left her giddy and elated in its wake. Reaching out, she ran her hand over the curve of his shoulder and across the broad expanse of his chest, delighting in the feeling of firm, warm muscle, and the sharp contrast of coarse hair and smooth skin beneath her roaming fingers. She traced a lazy pattern through the sparse hair there, and then dragged a fingertip idly downward, following the narrow, dark line that trailed lower, and revelling in the freedom of being able to touch him like this whenever she wanted.

As much as her self-confidence in these intimate moments had grown considerably over the last few days, there was a part of her that still felt a lingering sense of vulnerability in talking so openly about sex. _Enjoying_ sex was one thing; _discussing_ it was another matter entirely, one that persisted in making her feel oddly exposed. Without any frame of reference or experience in such situations, a tiny part of her still worried that she might be revealing too much of herself, being too forthright and perhaps even foolish to leave herself so unguarded. Han's bemused—but obviously pleased—reaction to her candid praise offered her some reassurance on that score, though. She had taken a risk in placing her trust in him, and it was clear to her now that Han had done the same. Deciding to be braver still and tread a little further into that territory, she cleared her throat.

"It's...it's so much better than _good_ ," she ventured softly, slanting a glance at his face. Some vestige of her instinct for self-preservation prompted her to add in a more teasing tone, "I mean, I never knew your fingers were so...talented _._ "

When Han returned his gaze to hers, it was obvious that his moment of self-consciousness had passed, and his playful spark had returned. His shadowed eyes twinkled in the dim light. "If you think my fingers are talented," he drawled with a droll half-smile, "wait'll you feel my _tongue_."

Those words spoken in Han's rumbling voice made Leia's eyes fly wide and her breath catch in her throat. One look at his wide grin told her that he'd said it primarily to shock her, but there was unmistakable promise there, too. Leia gave a little cough, hoping that the blush flaring hot under her skin wasn't as obvious as it felt. The act he so casually intimated was territory into which they hadn't yet ventured—though she had to admit to a burning curiosity about how _that_ particular experience would feel. But, jesting or not, the mere mention of such a thing delivered in Han's low, rich baritone was enough to send a melting sensation straight to her core.

She recovered her composure quickly, though, masking what she suspected was a boggled expression with a swiftly composed smirk of her own and a raised eyebrow.

"Oh yeah?" she countered. "Just wait, Hotshot; maybe you'll find _my_ tongue isn't quite as sharp as you once thought."

Even in the dim light, there was no mistaking the deep flush that bloomed anew in the skin of Han's throat and chest, and his eyes darkened with the return of that lustful intent he'd so often leveled at her over the past few days.

 _Gotcha,_ Leia thought with a little spike of triumph.

She wondered if he'd realized, as she just had, that their mutual affinity for lively banter, an increasingly flirtatious routine that had been derailed by the recent events on Ord Mantell, had undergone the same transformation as their relationship. The possibilities for ribald repartee were virtually endless, now that they'd breached that final barrier together. She had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep the glee she felt from showing on her face.

Han was equally quick to recover, smoothly donning his familiar Sabacc face to make himself appear unaffected by her provocative sally. "Hey, I'm up for it if you are, Princess."

It took every speck of Leia's self-control to keep a perfectly straight face as she leaned back and then slowly scanned the length of his naked body with her eyes. She quirked one eyebrow. "Really?" she queried, striving for a tone of innocence. "Funny, you don't look like you're _up_ for much of anything at the moment."

The surprised guffaw that burst from Han then finally cracked Leia's composure, too. She gave a very un-Princess-like snort, and soon they were both laughing, falling together in helpless mirth.

"Gimme a break, Princess," he protested, feigning an air of indignation. He pulled her close, his deep chuckles against her ear turning into smiling kisses upon her cheek. "I'm in my prime, but it's only been, what…" he craned his neck up to look at the chrono embedded in the bulkhead, "...ten minutes?"

Leia gave a _tsk_ of mock derision, though she didn't stop peppering his jaw with light kisses. She moved her lower body against him, entwining one leg with his and revelling in the feel of his warm skin and firm muscles against her own. His long body felt magnificent and powerful, and she wondered—not for the first time—why she'd denied herself this pleasure for so long. She sighed. "And I thought Corellians were known for their exceptional… _fortitude_."

"Even superior Corellian physiology has its limits," he deadpanned, angling a look down at her upturned face.

"Well, then," Leia replied with another exaggerated sigh, "we'll just have to put _that_ particular experience on the list for another time, I guess."

Han's gaze sharpened as his grip on her waist tightened. "You have a list?"

"Maybe." Leia bit her lip, suddenly unsure if she was ready to divulge further information about the various sexual matters that intrigued her and piqued her curiosity, let alone to disclose any details of the many private fantasies centered around Han that she'd indulged in over the years of their acquaintance. "One or two things," she hedged, deciding to leave those particular revelations for another time.

Drawing back once more, Han's eyes twinkled and he gave her a roguish smile. "Sweetheart, I'll try anything you want. Just promise you'll keep makin' them little noises, so I can tell I'm on the right track."

Leia froze. " _Little noises_?" She drew back slightly and then shifted up onto one elbow to stare down at Han's cheerful face. She was not at all sure she wanted him to elaborate on that remark, but she realized belatedly that her reflexive echoing of his comment made it sound as though she were inviting him to do just that. She pressed her lips together, wishing she could retract her words.

"Yeah, those cute little squeaks you make when I'm—"

Swiftly, Leia raised a hand and pressed the flat of her fingers against his lips, momentarily muffling his words as she glowered at him in warning. "I do NOT squ—"

Han twitched his head to one side against the pillow, escaping her touch. "Oh, _yes_ , Your Highness," he smirked. "You _squeak_. _And_ squeal. But the best is that greedy little whine you give me when I—"

" _Stop_ ," Leia groaned, dropping her face into the crook of her folded forearm across his chest. "I don't want to hear any more."

"Why not?" he grinned, nudging her lowered head with his chin. "It's the most adorable damn thing I've ever heard in my life." He pressed a kiss into her hair. "And I _love_ that little giggle after you come."

" _Gig_ —! What?" Leia spluttered, straightening up once more to fix him with an indignant glare. " _Han._ For stars' sake. I most certainly do _not_ —"

Han laughed. "Sure you do."

"I do _not_ ," she maintained. "At least, I wouldn't call it a—"

"Sweetheart, I know a giggle when I hear one." He stretched up to place a soft kiss on her chin. "And anyway," he said as he subsided against the pillow once more, his voice turning solemn and deep, his gaze warm, "you have a beautiful laugh."

Despite her royal upbringing and the extensive training she'd received in etiquette and diplomacy, Leia found herself utterly lost for words in the face of Han's naked compliment. Just as her frank praise had earlier rendered him momentarily dumbfounded, she found herself unable to summon a response to such heartfelt sincerity coming from him. She simply stared at him for a moment, open-mouthed and speechless, watching as another slow smile spread across his face.

"That laugh," he continued, "is just about the best sound in the galaxy."

Leia caught her breath and then rearranged her shocked expression into a smile. "' _Just about'_?"

"Yeah," he smirked. "It's a close second to the sound you make right _before_ you giggle. The one that sounds like a—"

"Oh, _gods..._." Ruthlessly yanking the edge of the pillow out from under Han's head, she flopped onto her back and then covered her face with it.

Han's chuckle grew into a deep belly laugh at her reaction. She felt him tugging on the pillow. "Hey, don't hide, Princess. I work hard for those noises. I wanna hear 'em." He ran his hand down her bare torso, warmly sliding over the skin of her waist, and then curving around the back of her hip. With gentle traction, he drew her up onto her side to face him, though she kept the pillow stubbornly clamped over her face. He released her to reach up and drag it out of the way. "C'mere," he growled, tossing the pillow carelessly over the edge of the bunk and grabbing her once more. "I wanna kiss you again. You make good noises then, too."

"Oh, _s-s-stop_!" Leia laughed helplessly as Han dove down and began munching his way down her neck. His caresses were more playful than sexual, but she couldn't help her body's reaction to the feel of his hot mouth on her skin, nor control the little whimper that escaped her throat when his lips retraced their heated path upwards and reached the sensitive spot behind her ear.

"Mmm, that's a good one," Han observed, nuzzling at her earlobe. "Gotta remember how to do _that_ one again."

Leia laughed and squirmed in mock protest. "You are _such_ a... _oh!_ " She gasped as he drew her earlobe between his teeth, nipping gently at the tender flesh, and then felt him smile against the curve of her neck.

"Such a.. _.scoundrel_?" he drawled, moving to pepper the underside of her jaw with playful kisses. "I _still_ like the sound of that."

"An _incorrigible_ scoundrel," Leia chided, at the same time as she tilted her head to offer him better access for his wandering caresses. He was leaning over her now, and the weight of his bare body resting partially atop hers was delicious and highly distracting. She struggled to maintain her focus. "Speaking of sounds, though, let's talk about some of the little noises _you_ make, Hotshot."

Han gave a chuff of laughter, the sudden rush of his warm breath tickling her bare skin. "With all of that squeakin' and giggling you do," he snickered, "I'm surprised you can hear a thing."

Leia batted his shoulder. "Very funny. I can hear just fine, and I certainly recognize Corellian when I hear it. I'm a little out of practice, though; what does _ven fho mi_ mean? You've said that a few times now…."

Han halted the movement of his lips against her chin and then drew back slightly, his handsome features and rumpled hair limned in cool blue light from the panel overhead. He gave a small grunt of surprise. "Huh. I thought you understood _that_ for sure," he said, "considering….".

Leia's brows drew together in puzzlement. "Considering what? What does it mean?"

"It means...uh…." He hesitated, seeming uncharacteristically self-conscious. "It's a...command." He winced. "Kind of...well, more like a little _encouragement_ ," he corrected.

Leia searched her somewhat limited mental catalog of Corellian words and phrases and put the pieces together, marveling at Han's sudden reticence in providing a direct translation of the idiom.

"It means... ' _come for me_ ,'" she murmured, feeling her cheeks grow warm once more as she uttered the frankly sexual phrase. She held Han's gaze and said it again, this time in Corellian and with a deliberately sultry inflection in her voice, and then broke into a wide smile at the stunned look on Han's face. She laughed. "I'll have to remember that one for later," she quipped.

Han stared at her, mouth agape and his eyes roaming her face as if seeing her for the first time. After a moment, he closed his mouth and then swallowed visibly. "Yeah, Princess. Just be careful when you unleash _that_ one."

"Oh, _that's_ nice," she said in an exaggerated drawl, reaching up to ruffle his already-tousled hair. "So you teach me these things, but then you don't want me to use them? Not fair."

"Didn't say I don't want you to use 'em, Sweetheart." He swivelled his head to brush a kiss against the inside of her wrist as she toyed with his hair, then turned back to fix her with a solemn look. "I'm just tellin' you, if you say _those_ words to me _like that_ , at the critical juncture, the party's over. Right then and there."

Leia fought to straighten her face and attempted a somber nod, although she could feel the urge to burst out laughing bubbling up once again. "Right. I'll remember that, too."

"Anyway," Han continued, tipping over onto his back once more and drawing Leia with him as he moved, "I figured you already knew that phrase, 'cause that's when you—y'know… _smiled_." His amused smirk rearranged itself into a wicked grin as he met her gaze once more. "A really, really _big_ smile."

Leia's attempt to maintain a serious expression dissolved in an instant; she dropped her forehead to his shoulder and fell into a fit of helpless mirth, her shoulders shaking. Han shortly followed suit, his deep baritone chuckles vibrating through both Leia's body and the bunk beneath them. As his hearty laughter melded with her unrestrained giggles, he tightened his arms around her, and then dipped his head down to press another affectionate kiss into her hair.

Leia's laughter was swept away by a sudden wave of fierce emotion, powerful enough to raise a choking lump in her throat—a complex, nearly overwhelming mix of gratitude and euphoria and lingering desire, underscored by that same deep feeling of _connection_ to Han, as thrilling as it was daunting in its intensity. She had placed both her body and her emotions in his hands, and he had accepted her trust and her love and returned them to her tenfold, leaving her filled with a warm glow of pure joy.

She returned her gaze to his, and found his eyes focused on hers with the light of unequivocal love shining in their depths. She reached out and laid a gentle hand on his cheek. This moment, like every such moment shared with Han over the last several days, would be forever etched in Leia's memory, just as every exquisite sensation he'd evoked in her—and she in him—was indelibly imprinted in her mind. She'd made the decision to put his eventual departure firmly out of her mind so that she could savor the experience of being with him, and she was indeed relishing every minute of it. How strange it was to discover that simply _talking_ about sex and pleasure, while not nearly as much fun as being an active participant, was so enjoyable in its own right. And despite Han's cocky, self-assured words and the flirtatious banter that volleyed between them, it was obvious to Leia that the relative ease with which she had laid herself utterly bare before him, naked in every conceivable way, was as much a revelation to him as it was to her.

"You seem a little surprised," she mused aloud. "Did you think I'd have difficulty...um, _smiling_?" she teased. "Where's that infamous Solo swagger?"

"Oh, I knew you would get there— _eventually_ ," he said, tucking one bent arm under his head. "But… really, there's only so much a guy can do to help. Even a gorgeous guy like me." He mugged for her, exaggerating the smugness of his smile.

Leia gave a soft laugh. " _There_ it is."

He straightened his face, and then gave her a wink. "I could be wrong…." He paused, eyeing her speculatively. "But I think a lot of what gets you going happens up here." Lifting his hand from beneath his head, he reached up to tap the pad of one finger lightly against her temple, before returning his arm to its former position. "I just thought you'd need a little more time to work up to it, that's all."

"I've been _working up to it_ for a couple of years, Han," Leia responded drily.

He looked intrigued and then a mischievous light glinted in his eyes. "Yeah? So you admit you've been fantasizing about me all this time?"

Leia narrowed her eyes and shook her head at him in stubborn refusal, biting her lip against a smile. If he wanted to elicit a confession from her along those lines, she decided, he was going to have to work a little harder for it.

Han seemed to think her mute denial was proof enough, though, judging by the look of triumph that swept over his face. "You _have,"_ he said, adding a firm nod to punctuate the certainty of that conviction. "You've been fantasizing about me for years."

"There you go again with that overactive imagination of yours."

He was right, of course, but Leia wasn't about to concede the point quite so easily. Although she was thoroughly enjoying their newfound candor with one another, there were still a few things she wanted to keep to herself for a while longer. Not that she harbored any profound secrets that she was loath to share with him; not at all. But if Han's calculations were correct, they still had seventy-eight days to go on their slow journey to Bespin; plenty of time to indulge in more intimate moments like this, and in the quiet conversations that proved to be every bit as revelatory of the inner workings of Han's mind as her more tangible explorations had been of his body. She turned her head and laid her cheek on his chest, as much to hear the soothing beat of his heart as to hide the sheepish look on her face.

"You can't fool me, Sweetheart," he teased, the smile on his face evident in the sound of his voice. "I've had your number for quite a while. And I think you need to give me a little credit, here."

"Credit?" she echoed, lifting her head to regard him with a curious expression. "Credit for _what,_ Flyboy?"

Han allowed his eyes to roam the dim room for a moment and then trained his smug gaze on the panel overhead. "I am trying so hard not to gloat…."

"Oh, fine," she huffed, rolling her eyes and fighting a laugh. "Go on and say it."

He tipped his face back to hers and grinned. "What'm I gonna say?"

" _'I told you so_ '."

His grin broadened. "Well...I was right, wasn't I? We _are_ good together. _Really_ good." His expression softened then, as he lifted a hand to smooth away a few long strands of hair that had fallen across her forehead. "I mean, I _knew_ it'd be good, physically, but this…." His voice grew thick. He drew a deep breath and blew it out. "What we have here, Leia…it's just…." He trailed off, holding her gaze, and then swallowed hard and gave a slight shake of his head, apparently lost for words.

Leia found his inability to articulate his feelings more heartfelt and sincere than any eloquent combination of words and phrases could ever be. Han was laying his own heart bare now; his slightly dumbfounded expression and the emotion that radiated in the depths of his eyes was earnest and genuine, and told her everything she needed to know. She stretched up to place a soft kiss on his lips, silently communicating her understanding. The deep connection they'd finally reached together was magical and precious, but it was also very _new_. It felt delicate, almost fragile, and—as much as Leia would like to believe otherwise—it was probably temporary. The knowledge that their relationship would almost certainly come to an end after they concluded the ship's repairs on Bespin made Leia's stomach lurch, and she had to hastily suppress those thoughts, feeling her heart trembling on the edge of a break. _Not yet, not yet,_ she warned herself, mentally backing away from the chasm that loomed on the horizon. She couldn't bear to examine the depths of her love for Han right now, nor dwell too long on the memory of him whispering those sweet words in her ear, and she dare not allow her thoughts to travel too far ahead, to the heartache that would surely come at the end of the line. Better to steer the conversation back into safer territory for the moment; back to their talk of mutual physical pleasure, and the joy they were finding in sexual discovery. She brushed another light kiss across his lips and then drew back to give him a gentle smile.

"So...is it...better than you imagined, then?" she queried, struggling to keep her tone light.

He returned his gaze to hers and she saw the flicker of understanding there. His reticence disappeared behind a playful leer as he followed her lead. "I dunno," he drawled. "I can still _imagine_ quite a bit."

Leia cracked a wide grin and then winced and pinched her cheeks together between thumb and finger. "Ow, _stop_ ," she said, speaking through comically puckered lips. "My face hurts from smiling."

"Okay, now you _really_ have to give me credit," he laughed.

"The _other_ kind of smiling, Hotshot," she chided, releasing her face to give him a tiny poke in the ribs.

"Nothing wrong with that," he remarked. "That's a _good_ problem to have, ain't it?" Careful not to jostle her too much, Han reached over the side of the bunk and retrieved the pillow he'd tossed on the floor, and then tucked it back under Leia's head as she lifted it. Then he reached above his own head, moving as if to hit the panel for the overhead light.

"Are you going to sleep already?" Leia interjected in a tone of surprise. She glanced at the chrono. "It's still kind of early…."

Han halted with his finger poised over the controls, and then tilted his head down to look at her. "You have somethin' else in mind, Princess?" he said, quirking a curious eyebrow.

"Well, it's been…what…." Mimicking his earlier move, she craned her neck up to look at the chrono again. " _Fifteen_ minutes, now?"

"Nearly twenty," Han confirmed, his eyes already twinkling with anticipation. He understood exactly where her thoughts were headed, judging by the knowing smile that crept across his handsome face.

"So…." Leia drawled. "I thought…perhaps you could demonstrate this so-called superior Corellian physiology of yours. You know, set those rumors straight, once and for all."

Han held her gaze for a long moment, and then continued the motion of his outstretched hand towards the controls. Instead of dousing the lights, however, he twitched them up a notch, illuminating their cozy bunk with a marginally brighter glow, before turning back to Leia with a gleam in his eye.

"A command performance, Your Highness?"

She gave a light snort. "Since when do you obey commands, Captain?"

"Since you learned how to give 'em in Corellian," he rumbled.

Leaning over her, he planted one hand on the mattress beside her body as he moved in close.

"C'mere," he murmured, lowering his lips to hers. "Let me teach you a few more."

 **The End**


End file.
